


Devil Within

by adoctoraday



Series: Josh Brolin Can Get It [4]
Category: Actor RPF, Josh Brolin - Fandom
Genre: Baking, F/M, Forbidden Love, Poetry, Priest Kink, Priests, Secret Relationship, Secret Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 16:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16857484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adoctoraday/pseuds/adoctoraday
Summary: A sin, a confession, and hidden desire.Father Brolin is tempted by something sweet, and his sweet parishioner craves the taste of his lips.





	Devil Within

**Author's Note:**

> lol you guys ready for this fuckery? Let’s dive into the smut, shall we?! lol songs to listen to are, “Burnt Sugar” by Felicity, “Redeeming Love–Reprise” by Amy Stroup, and “Before You Called me Baby” by Caitlyn Smith.

The scent of myrrh and incense hung in the air, never really leaving the sanctuary even after the doors had been propped open as the parishioners exited.  

It was just a few days before the start of Lent, and you were trying to find the courage to go into the confessional and speak with Father Brolin. You hadn’t been to confession in numerous months, but Father Brolin never seemed to mind.

He encouraged the parishioners to come and speak with him when they needed, his style of leading more like a friend than a figure of intimidation who knew hundreds of dirty secrets. 

Nevertheless, it was still difficult to come to him and confess that you had physically assaulted another human being. 

You weren’t an angry person by nature, but when you had seen a man beating a small child for taking a half rotten apple from the marketplace, you had lost your composure. 

Firmly, but politely you had told the man to stop and offered to pay for the apple, an offer he had brushed aside gruffly before attempting to reach for the boy again, his large meaty hand connecting with the boy’s jaw in a sickening blow. 

Rage like you had never known had flooded you and in a heartbeat you had slapped the man across the face and then kicked him sharply in the groin when he attempted to retaliate. 

To make matters worse, you had taken three apples and given them to the boy before leaving–all without paying. 

Gathering your courage, you strode down the aisle of the church, heels clicking softly against the marble floor as you made your way to the confessional. 

The red light over the door indicated that Father Brolin was in with someone, so you genuflected and made the sign of the cross at the mouth of the pew before sliding in and kneeling, lacing your fingers together as you closed your eyes to pray. 

 

So lost in your meditations were you that you never heard the confessional door open or Father Brolin emerge to seat himself in the pew beside you. 

“Getting a head start on your prayers for absolution?” a warm, deep voice asked, sounding amused. 

Your eyes flashed open and you turned to him with a soft gasp, heart thundering. Father Brolin chuckled at the shock on your face and laid a hand on your forearm, “Easy little one, it’s just me,” he assured you. 

Smiling weakly at him, you nodded and glanced toward the confessional nervously. Father Brolin lifted a brow, “Would you like me to hear your confession in the confessional?” he asked gently. 

Casting a glance around the large interior of the church, you sighed in relief when you realized it was empty. Turning your gaze back to him, you smiled softly and shook your head, “If you don’t mind Father Brolin, I’d like to do it here,” you murmured. 

Father Brolin smiled softly and nodded, “Of course. Why don’t you begin,” he encouraged, leaning back against the pew to sling an arm over the back and turn his body towards you. 

Taking a deep breath, you began. When you reached the point of the story where you kicked the man in the groin, Father Brolin went from smirking faintly to laughing outright. 

Staring at him in shock, you idly noticed how much younger he looked when he laughed, how _handsome_ , and immediately flushed. Such thoughts were inappropriate. 

Father Brolin patted a hand against your arm and shook his head, “Little one, I don’t think you have anything to confess. Our Lord himself drove merchants from the temple with a whip, I hardly think he would judge you ill for protecting an innocent child.”

He smiled softly and his thumb caressed the inside of your forearm as he spoke, sending shivers over your skin, ripples of heat spreading from that small touch. 

“B-but I took three apples without paying!” you declared, eyes wide with worry. 

Once again Father Brolin chuckled and shook his head, “Fair payment for the man’s actions, I would say. But, if it’s troubling you so much, say five Hail Mary’s and be sure to make a donation to the owner of the stand for the cost of the apples.”

He studied you as you nodded and a faint tilt came to his lips, “How long have you been coming to my services?” he asked, sounding as though he already knew the answer. 

“Five years Father,” you replied easily. It was the first thing you had done when you moved to the small town, scouring the maps until you found a suitable church. 

He smiled and nodded, “Well, then I think it’s time you just call me Josh. I’m not so formal, as I think you understand,” he murmured. 

You hesitated, was this really appropriate? After a long, searching look into his eyes, you nodded slowly, “Well, okay,” you agreed, smiling slowly. “Thank you for hearing my confession…Josh,” you hesitated around the name, checking his face once more to be sure he didn’t mind. 

His fingers–still around your forearm–squeezed gently as he smiled, “I’m happy to speak with you whenever you need little one. You’re a valued member of my family here,” he murmured and you flushed, ducking your head at the kind words. 

After a moment you cleared your throat and looked back up at him, giving him a soft smile. “I should go. I have to make a cake for the church bake sale,” you admitted. 

Father Brolin lifted his brows, a smile warming his face. “Oh? What are you gifting?”

“Lemon raspberry pound cake. My mother’s recipe,” you admitted. 

His smile widened, “I may have to buy that before anyone else has a chance to get it, I have a terrible sweet tooth,” he confided, leaning forward, “Lent is the hardest time of year for me.”

An answering grin lit up your face and you mimicked him, leaning forward slightly. “Perhaps if you’re good, I’ll bake one just for you,” you murmured, some part of you distantly wondering where this confident woman had come from, that she would flirt with a priest while _in the church_. 

Father Brolin grinned and laughed softly, “Should you hear my confession before you decide?” he teased, thumb stroking your forearm. 

Shivers ran over your skin again and you tilted your head to smirk at him, “Perhaps I should Father Brolin. Have you many sins?” you asked softly, voice low and a touch suggestive. 

His gaze flitted to your mouth so quickly you weren’t even sure it had happened, but still, a flush rose on your skin, contrasting prettily with the eggshell blue of your dress. 

“I crave sweet things, things I should not,” he admitted, and this time you were sure his gaze went to your mouth, for it lingered there before rising to meet yours. 

Heart pounding in your chest, you nodded weakly, mouth dry. “P-Perhaps something a touch tart will help your cravings then,” you whispered, “I find the tang of the lemon with the sweet raspberry to be,” you paused and your gaze flitted to his lips, plush and firm, swallowing hard before continuing, “ _heavenly_.”

Your gazes met and his was dark, heavy with something you were too scared to identify. His thumb pressed into your skin, and you could see his pulse jumping in his throat. 

“I look forward to trying a little of your heaven,” he murmured so softly it was barely audible, but still, it reached you and a shiver ran over your skin. 

Distantly you heard the door to the church clang open, sending a jolt through you, reminding you that you were not in fact, alone. Hurrying to your feet, you jerked softly as his hand slid from your skin and smiled nervously down at him. 

Tucking a loose strand of carroty hair behind your ear, “Have a good evening Father Brolin,” you murmured before snatching up your purse and beating a hasty retreat. 

“You as well little one,” his low voice carried after you. 

* * *

Sweat beaded on your skin as you ran your fingers up your thigh under the cotton fabric of your dress. Heat had throbbed between your legs since Father Brolin– _Josh-_ \- had first touched you, much to your shame. 

Worse still, you were now slipping your fingers beneath the band of the silky underthings you wore to feel the wet heat gathered there, a soft gasp slipping from your lips as your fingers brushed over _that spot_. 

You knew it was wrong, oh…but _oh_ …

Leaning against the kitchen sink in your small apartment, you moaned softly as your fingers found it once more and eagerly began rubbing, pleasure building with each touch. 

Sweet heat flowed slowly through your belly and veins, growing, and growing until…

“Oh! _Father Brolin!”_ you gasped, arching your back as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you shaking and numb lipped. Heart throbbing in your chest, you slowly realized what had happened, what you had said, who you had imagined touching you…and guilt came crashing down. 

Turning hastily to the sink you washed your hands furiously, trying to get the scent of your release from your fingers and the desire for Father Brolin from out of your blood. 

Tossing aside the towel, you let out a determined huff. 

You had a cake to bake. 

* * *

From your spot at your bake sale table you watched as members of the town came to sample wares and make purchases. You had made three lemon raspberry pound cakes, two coffee cakes, a Swedish Tea ring, and brownies. 

Perhaps it was too much, but you had been seized with an urge to bake, trying desperately to keep your mind off Father Brolin and what had happened in your kitchen. 

His broad form broke through the crowds and caught your attention easily. Trying to concentrate, you paid extra attention to your customers, slicing off pieces of cake and brownies for those who only wanted a little. 

Eventually though, he was at your table, hands in his pockets, blue button down shirt undone at the top so you could just barely see a glimpse of the tanned skin of his throat. 

Swallowing hard, you smiled nervously up at him, “Hello Father Brolin, would you like to sample anything?” you offered and then silently cursed how suggestive that sounded. 

He smiled softly at you and shook his head, “I’ll take one of your pound cakes please,” he murmured, reaching for his wallet. 

You held up a hand and shook your head, “There’s no need to pay me Father. I said I would make you a cake,” you reminded him. 

He lifted a brow and slowly put his wallet back, nodding. “So you did. Well, thank you,” he murmured as you handed over the tin containing the cake. You nodded and watched as he carried it with him, moving through the large church hall to speak with members of the congregation. 

You knew many of the women–young and older–thought he was a handsome man, and for the longest time you had thought so too, but this reaction to his proximity was entirely new. 

New and dangerous. 

When the last of the townspeople had left and you had folded up the chairs and tables in the hall, you wiped your hands off on the skirt of your dress and smiled faintly at Father Brolin.

You had tried to avoid being near him while the other ladies were packing up and chatting, but time and again, you had found your paths crossing, his gaze lingering on yours from across the room, leaving you flushed and breathless. 

He approached, hands tucked in his pockets and a warm smile on his face. “Thank you for all your help cleaning up the hall,” he murmured, gazing down at you, a soft look on his face. “Is this more penance?” he joked softly, laughing when you blushed and shook your head, ducking your chin to hide from his gaze. 

When you looked back up he was smiling softly at you, a gleam in his eye you didn’t quite understand. “Will you come share your cake with me?” he asked, surprising you. “I could use a good cup of coffee,” he told you conspiratorially, giving you a wink.

 

Your heart stuttered and you inhaled unsteadily, brain screaming that this was a bad idea, but you heard yourself answering, “Okay, that sounds lovely,” and before you knew it, you were following him out of the church hall and to the rectory. 

As you approached the small house Father Brolin pointed out where he was currently planting flowers and repainting the railings. An image of him in his undershirt, soaked in sweat and clinging to his firm chest flashed in your mind and you stumbled, blood pulsing in between your legs hotly. 

Father Brolin’s hand wrapped around your arm, holding on firmly as he steadied you. Giving him a shy, appreciative nod, you straightened your dress and gently pulled your arm out of his grasp. 

Following him into the house, you sighed as the cool interior washed over your heated skin. Father Brolin quickly set about making coffee, chatting idly with you as you peered around the rectory surreptitiously. 

There were bookshelves everywhere and books lay open on nearly every flat surface. Walking over to the kitchen table, you lifted the cover of one of the books laying there and lifted a brow at the title. 

  ** _Eine Sammlung von Werken: Sylvia Plath._**

“That’s one of my new favorites,” he murmured from behind you and you could feel how close he was standing to you. 

“You speak German?”you asked, surprised. Glancing back at him, you studied his face as he spoke. He nodded in response to your question, “I never cared much for poetry in school, but when I was fighting in Germany, I picked up a copy in this bombed out house and, well,” he shrugged a shoulder and looked forlorn, eyes distant. 

Reaching past you, he picked up the book, his bare forearm brushing against the skin of your upper arm, sending a shiver over your skin. He cleared his throat and a moment later began reading aloud to you, his gaze darting towards you over the edge of the book.

_“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.) T_

_he stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead._

_I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.)_

_God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade: Exit seraphim and Satan’s men: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead._

_I fancied you’d return the way you said, But I grow ol_ _d and I forget your name. (I think I made you up inside my head.)_

_I_ _should have loved a thunderbird instead; At least when spring comes they roar back again. I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead._

_(I think I made you up inside my head.)”_

Your heart raced, the words he had spoken in his low, gravelly voice setting your body aflame. Oh you knew it was wrong, but the look in his eyes burned you to the bone, and oh how you wished it would set you aflame, because maybe then you would get some relief from this ache deep within you. 

 

Mouth dry, you swallowed hard, “That was beautiful,” you whispered, gaze holding his. His eyes were warm and his lips unfurled into a faint smile as he nodded, closing the book and tapping his fingers on the cover for a moment before he offered it to you. 

“If you would like to read more, please take it,” he murmured. 

Flushing, you shook your head and glanced away shyly, “I don’t speak German. Just a little Gaelic that my grandmother taught me,” you admitted. 

When you glanced back up at him he was smiling softly, gaze so affectionate it made your stomach twist. “I have some of her works in English, I’ll make sure you take one home” he replied. 

After a long moment of staring at each other, he seemed to realize why he had invited you in and went to pour out two mugs of coffee and slice pieces of cake. Leading you to the small sitting room, he smiled softly, “I prefer to have company in here, much less formal,” he admitted. 

You nodded, still feeling breathless, and sat on the small loveseat, inhaling sharply when he joined you, his long thigh pressing into yours. Silently you ate a bite of cake and took a long sip of coffee, barely able to stomach it as desire made your belly nervous and your head spin. 

Father Brolin hummed in pleasure as he took another bite of cake, eyes closed in pleasure when you dared to look over at him. 

“Good?” you ventured, and his eyes opened to meet yours, something warm burning there that made a shiver run over your skin. 

“Heavenly,” he whispered, tongue tracing his bottom lip to catch any fallen crumbs and your stomach clenched, desire flooding you so fiercely you felt suddenly lightheaded. 

When his hand reached up and his thumb stroked along your bottom lip, your heart stopped. 

“Crumb,” he explained, gaze steady on yours. 

Your heart seemed to have restarted because it was pounding wildly in your chest and you could barely nod, let alone form a coherent response. Your tongue darted out, unthinkingly, and nudged against where his thumb still pressed against the corner of your mouth. 

Heat shivered through you at his sharp inhale, his lips parting as his gaze fixated on your mouth. He hesitated for a moment and then his thumb passed over your bottom lip again, pulling on it gently as he leaned in, entranced by the sight of your coral lipstick wiping onto his skin. 

When his thumb shifted to press into the full part of your lip, your mouth parted a little more and on some instinct you didn’t even know you had, you leaned in a little and closed your lips around it. 

His eyes widened, darting between where his thumb was in between your plump lips, and up to your eyes, his breathing growing heavier. Flicking your tongue across the pad of his thumb, you let out a soft, involuntary noise at the taste of his skin. 

Tangy lemon and salty skin combined into a heady combination and you found yourself sucking on the appendage, a faint moan coming from your throat. 

Father Brolin’s breath panted against your skin as he leaned in, pulling his thumb from between your lips to press into your chin as his long fingers curled around your jaw, tilting your mouth up to his. 

Before you could process what was happening, his other hand was at your waist, burning through the layers of cotton and silk and into your skin, pulling you firmly into his chest as his lips found yours. 

Your groans filled the small sitting room as his tongue caressed yours, his lips firm and demanding and some distant part of your brain wondered where a priest had learned to kiss like this. 

Your lungs grew desperate for air, but you ignored them, furrowing your fingers through his silky dark locks, tugging on them to pull him even closer. Father Brolin moaned into your mouth and his lips left yours to trail down the column of your throat, burning a path across your skin. 

Panting, you closed your eyes and dug your fingers in tighter, tugging on his hair as his teeth nipped at the tender flesh of your throat. Pleasure filled you and you could hear soft noises coming from your throat as his tongue laved over the spot he had nipped and sucked at. 

When his fingers at your waist trailed up to tug gently at the zipper of your dress, rationality burned its way back, and panic began to set in. Pushing his hands away, you pulled back, wide eyed with lust and shock. 

“F-Father Brolin, we cannot!” you exclaimed softly, “It would be a sin!”

A thick lock of hair fell against his brow, giving him a roguish, disheveled look that was far too appealing for the continued safety of your immortal soul. 

With a pained noise, he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, “No little one, it would not,” he replied gruffly. At your incredulous look he leaned in, hesitating for a moment when you flinched, and then laid a hand on your cheek, his gaze earnest. 

“To love is not a sin,” he whispered, eyes intent on yours. 

_Love?_  

How could he love you? “You don’t know me, how can you love me?” you whispered, some dark desperate part of you hoping it was true. An even deeper part of you knew it was true that you were in love with him. 

His thumb stroked your cheek and his gaze was warm. “I’ve known you for five years little one. I’ve heard your confessions and your voice raise in joyous worship. I’ve seen you care for the children and the elderly and fallen in love with the woman who asks for nothing in return from those she serves.” 

Tears gathered in your eyes and in a rush of breath and lips crashing together, you threw yourself into his arms, a faint hiccough of emotion coming from your chest as his strong arms wrapped around you. 

A moment later you were in his lap, knees on either side of his hips, his hands sliding up your thighs as his lips caressed yours. You moaned at the sensation of his rough palms against the silk of your thighs and rolled your hips forward, gasping when you felt the thick length of his erection pressing up against you. 

He groaned at the sensation and his hands landed on your hips to rock you against him slowly, grinding his erection up into you so it rubbed along your silky underwear–already wet with your arousal. 

Fingers splaying in his hair, you tugged and moaned against his lips as pleasure built low in your belly, a need growing within you like it did when you touched yourself, but this time it was hotter, heavier. 

You had been with a man just once before, in the throes of the war and men being deployed to fight the Nazis there was always someone who could show a girl a good time, even if just for a night. 

You hadn’t intended it to be just one night, you had intended on marrying him, but he had died in battle and you had left his hometown to come here, hiding from your past. 

Now, as Father Brolin rolled his hips into yours, moaning your name against your throat as his teeth marked your skin, you realized that this would be entirely different from that time. 

“I want to see you, all of you,” he panted, lifting his head to meet your gaze, and you nodded eagerly. Gasping in surprise when he stood, holding you against him, you clung to his powerful shoulders as he carried you back to his small bedroom. 

Setting you down beside the bed, he turned you gently to face away, his fingers warm against your skin as he pulled the zipper on your dress down, the rasp of the teeth loud in the quiet of the room. 

The fabric whispered to the ground, and he quickly unlatched your bra, sending it to the ground too. His fingers trailed over your shoulders and down your spine, breath warm on your skin. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered. 

Turning to face him hesitantly, you lifted your gaze and reached for the buttons on his shirt, your gaze on his as you undressed him. When you both stood in nothing but underwear, he closed the miniscule distance and captured your mouth in another kiss. 

Gently he guided you back to the bed, his large body covering your smaller frame. 

His teeth and lips and tongue painted a story of your desires across your body and when his lips closed around your pebbled nipple, a sharp gasp of pleasure escaped you. 

“Oh! F-Father Brolin!”

He chuckled against your breast and flicked his tongue against your nipple, “Josh,” he reminded you softly and you moaned as his fingers rolled your neglected nipple. 

When he switched his attentions, you moaned louder, hips rolling up into his, desperate for him to be inside you. “Please, _please_ Father…Josh,” you moaned. 

His lips trailed down your belly to the silk clinging to your arousal and you gasped in surprise and pleasure when his lips opened and he sucked at you through the wet fabric. 

“Oh! God…”

You could hear his chuckle as he removed his mouth and pulled your underwear off, the cool air hitting your soaked lower lips. Your gaze met his and he looked… _hungry_.

“Your pussy is beautiful,” he whispered, sending a shiver of embarrassment through you, your cheeks flushing at the dirty word. He must have seen it because he grinned and leaned in to press a kiss to it and you gasped, shocked. 

When his tongue slid between your folds, you lost all sense of why you had been embarrassed and whined softly, breathing faster as his tongue flicked up and hit that spot that your own fingers were acutely familiar with. 

Moaning loudly as his tongue attacked it with fervor, you collapsed back, fingers furrowing in his hair as he licked and sucked at your… _pussy_. 

“Josh…oh God, oh please!” you gasped, hips rolling into his mouth, desperate whines coming from your throat. Burning pressure in your belly grew and you writhed, nails digging into his scalp as it became nearly unbearable. 

“Oh god, Josh, please, don’t…stop!” you begged, back arching as the crest of your pleasure struck. Sobbing gasps ripped from your throat and you could hear Josh groaning from between your legs. 

As the pleasure subsided slowly, he kissed up your body, lingering over your breasts until you were shifting beneath him needily once more. Reaching for his muscular biceps, you pulled at him until his lips met yours and you could run your hands over his broad back. 

Moaning softly in satisfaction, you pushed at his plain blue boxers until he pulled away and shoved them off, both of you pausing when his naked erection was free. 

You hadn’t actually _seen_ a man’s…cock…before. The last time had been in the dark and had been over too quick for you to get a good look, but looking at it now, you had to wonder how it would fit. 

“It’s so… _thick,”_ you whispered, meeting his gaze nervously. 

Josh laughed softly and leaned in to kiss you, one large hand caressing your hip soothingly. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” he assured you. At your nod, he guided your thighs up around his hips and angled his cock to your entrance. 

As the blunt head pushed in you gasped in shock, hips rocking as you tried to get away from the burn. Josh’s thumbs rubbed soothing circles on your hips, pausing to give you a chance to breathe before he continued pushing in. 

You hadn’t expected it to burn, for the pain to be nearly as delicious as the pleasure and you moaned loudly, rolling your hips into his, eager for more. 

Josh groaned and leaned forward to rest on his forearms, lips finding yours as his hips began to thrust, his cock sliding from within you only to plunge home seconds later. 

“Fuck,” Josh rasped in your ear, and you trembled in delight at the foul word coming from his gravelly voice, a feral pride rising in you that it was _you_ that had done this to him. 

“Harder, please Father,” you gasped and his answering grunt sent a thrill over you. His fingers tangled in your hair as his lips found yours and you moaned when his hips thrust into you relentlessly, his gravelly voice in your ear praising you. 

“Fuck! Yes little one, you’re so perfect.” 

Fire coursed through your veins as his cock began to nudge against something inside you, something that made your skin shiver and a broken cry come from your throat each time. 

“Oh! There! Please, there!”

Josh grabbed your hips and pulled himself to his knees, lifting your hips with him as he continued to thrust, his gaze dark and hungry as it met yours. 

“Come for me little one,” he commanded breathlessly, and you nodded eagerly, sliding a hand between you to where your bodies were joined, your fingers slipping down to feel where his cock plunged into you over and over again. 

Moaning his name, you slid your wet fingers up to find that little bud of flesh… _there_ …

“Oh! God!”

Josh’s eyes were bright as he grabbed your chin, focusing your gaze on his, and there was something dark and possessive there as he rasped, “Not God. _Me.”_

You nodded eagerly in agreement and moaned his name as he increased his tempo, the lewd sound of skin against skin and pleasured moans filling the room. 

Another crest was close, you could feel it burning in your veins, like the time before, except hotter, hungrier. Panting and whining, you rubbed that spot harder, giving him a pleading look. 

“Please, Josh, please.”

He nodded, dark locks of hair falling in his eyes as his hips slammed into yours and his hand at your chin slipped down to caress your breast. When his fingers rolled your nipple, it broke something inside you. 

Pleasure blinded you and your body bowed under the pressure of it, a broken wail slipping from between your lips. You could hear Josh’s cry of your name as your pussy fluttered and clutched at him, and a few moments later he was groaning loudly, hips stuttering. 

Something hot filled you and you moaned when you realized it was his release. The breath left your lungs as his body covered yours once more, his lips finding yours hungrily. 

As the sweat on your bodies cooled and your hearts slowed, you could feel some of his release trickle from within you. 

“What now?” you whispered and felt your heart clench as he lifted himself up slightly to peer down at you, gaze guarded. 

Studying you for a long moment, he smiled slowly and lifted a hand to caress your cheek. 

 “Now, I have a long talk with the Bishop.”

* * *

Stepping out the freshly painted front door of your house, you lifted a hand to cover your eyes and smiled at the sight awaiting you. 

White sweat soaked undershirt clinging to his tanned skin, Josh knelt in the dirt at the base of the house, planting flowers. At the sound of your footsteps he paused and looked up, a grin forming on his lips even as concern filled his gaze. 

Hurrying to his feet he came over to accept the glass of lemonade you handed over, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. 

He tasted like burnt sugar and sweat and coffee, and you hummed in satisfaction, leaning up to lick at his bottom lip before pulling away to smile softly at him. 

“You should take a break, I don’t want you passing out from heatstroke,” you murmured, reaching up to push his hair off his forehead. 

He drained the glass and exhaled sharply, shaking his head and grinning at you, “I’m fine. You’re the one who should be resting,” he replied, brow furrowing faintly.

His hand came to rest on the large swell of your belly and a grin formed on his lips as the life within you kicked and rolled. As always, the look of awe in his eyes made your heart feel like it would burst from your chest. 

Glancing over to the half finished flowerbeds, you looked up at him, squinting slightly into the sun. 

“What now?” you asked, smiling softly. 

Thumb caressing your belly he glanced at your home and then back to you, a satisfied smile spreading on his face. 

“Now we have everything,” he replied, leaning into to kiss you sweetly, and the taste of burnt sugar warmed your tongue once more.  


End file.
